let them in on the threats. Perhaps it would be enough to let them know how hectic things would be, with Mac’s work crew around. “I’ll take care of contacting them,” she said finally.
Mac crossed to the desk in the corner of the room and rummaged through the drawers until he found a notepad and pen. Then he came back and sat down. “All right, that’s settled. Now I need for you to give me a complete list of the people who have been in and out of here lately.” It wouldn’t have to be a regular guest wreaking havoc on Raine’s life. Anyone who could come and go at will had the opportunity to place those notes in her mail. It could be, as he’d pointed out, someone who was welcomed to the house. It could also be someone completely unknown to her, but first he was going to have to work through process of elimination.
She would have liked to ask why he needed the names, but after a look at his face decided not to push her luck. She knew intuitively that his temper was still simmering. She began with Sarah, Greg and André. They were by far her most frequent visitors. She named several other friends who stopped in occasionally, and included the art students. She named the courses and the instructors for whose classes she’d been invited to speak. Finally, after racking her brain for a while longer, she shrugged. “That’s it, I guess.”
“You’re sure?” he pressed. “Are all the people I saw here in the last couple days on this list?”
She looked blank for a moment. “I suppose so. I have to confess, I don’t always know myself who’s here. If my work’s going well I sometimes don’t come out of my studio until dusk.” She wasn’t about to relay that he’d provided an unusual distraction several times already.
He folded up the list he’d written. “Things will start changing around here immediately.”
That sounded ominous. Raine looked at him distrustfully. “Exactly what does that mean?”
“It means that I’m going to hold you to this agreement we’ve hammered out,” he said bluntly. “And it means that you’re going to have to trust me to do my job, and stop starting a war every time I suggest something that’s for your own good.”
For her own good. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d heard that phrase in her childhood. “What is clear,” she announced, gritting her teeth, “is that you’ve got ego where your brain should be. If you think I’m never going to question a suggestion you make, you’d better think again. I’m not a trained seal.”
“Not well-trained, no.”
She glared at him. He stared implacably back. That remark was the first hint of humor she’d noted in the man, and at any other time she would have been pleasantly surprised by it. She’d always thought that a sense of humor was the only thing that made life bearable at times. She hadn’t expected to find one in Macauley O’Neill. He seemed too tough, too jaded. But since his humor was veiled and sarcastic and directed at her, she found him less than amusing.
“You’re hilarious. But I still expect to be consulted before you make any major changes around here.”
He ignored her verbal rebellion. Already he regretted backing off on the issue of her visitors. Her argument about allowing Greg and André here made sense. But he knew she regarded the concession as a compromise, and would expect future ones. She’d be disappointed—that wasn’t the way he worked. He was here to do a job, and he wasn’t about to run each of his ideas by her over afternoon tea and get her approval. Compromises didn’t necessarily keep people alive.
Not for the first time, he wished that his partner, Trey Garrison, was handling this job. He had infinitely more patience, and could even trot out some charm when it was called for. No doubt he could have long civilized talks with Raine Michaels and convince her that every idea he had was her own. Mac lacked the ability and the inclination to do so.
He
Mac crossed to the desk in the corner of the room and rummaged through the drawers until he found a notepad and pen. Then he came back and sat down. “All right, that’s settled. Now I need for you to give me a complete list of the people who have been in and out of here lately.” It wouldn’t have to be a regular guest wreaking havoc on Raine’s life. Anyone who could come and go at will had the opportunity to place those notes in her mail. It could be, as he’d pointed out, someone who was welcomed to the house. It could also be someone completely unknown to her, but first he was going to have to work through process of elimination.
She would have liked to ask why he needed the names, but after a look at his face decided not to push her luck. She knew intuitively that his temper was still simmering. She began with Sarah, Greg and André. They were by far her most frequent visitors. She named several other friends who stopped in occasionally, and included the art students. She named the courses and the instructors for whose classes she’d been invited to speak. Finally, after racking her brain for a while longer, she shrugged. “That’s it, I guess.”
“You’re sure?” he pressed. “Are all the people I saw here in the last couple days on this list?”
She looked blank for a moment. “I suppose so. I have to confess, I don’t always know myself who’s here. If my work’s going well I sometimes don’t come out of my studio until dusk.” She wasn’t about to relay that he’d provided an unusual distraction several times already.
He folded up the list he’d written. “Things will start changing around here immediately.”
That sounded ominous. Raine looked at him distrustfully. “Exactly what does that mean?”
“It means that I’m going to hold you to this agreement we’ve hammered out,” he said bluntly. “And it means that you’re going to have to trust me to do my job, and stop starting a war every time I suggest something that’s for your own good.”
For her own good. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d heard that phrase in her childhood. “What is clear,” she announced, gritting her teeth, “is that you’ve got ego where your brain should be. If you think I’m never going to question a suggestion you make, you’d better think again. I’m not a trained seal.”
“Not well-trained, no.”
She glared at him. He stared implacably back. That remark was the first hint of humor she’d noted in the man, and at any other time she would have been pleasantly surprised by it. She’d always thought that a sense of humor was the only thing that made life bearable at times. She hadn’t expected to find one in Macauley O’Neill. He seemed too tough, too jaded. But since his humor was veiled and sarcastic and directed at her, she found him less than amusing.
“You’re hilarious. But I still expect to be consulted before you make any major changes around here.”
He ignored her verbal rebellion. Already he regretted backing off on the issue of her visitors. Her argument about allowing Greg and André here made sense. But he knew she regarded the concession as a compromise, and would expect future ones. She’d be disappointed—that wasn’t the way he worked. He was here to do a job, and he wasn’t about to run each of his ideas by her over afternoon tea and get her approval. Compromises didn’t necessarily keep people alive.
Not for the first time, he wished that his partner, Trey Garrison, was handling this job. He had infinitely more patience, and could even trot out some charm when it was called for. No doubt he could have long civilized talks with Raine Michaels and convince her that every idea he had was her own. Mac lacked the ability and the inclination to do so.
He
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